Reasons Why
by JustSaraNoH
Summary: Rory needs someone to help him sort his thoughts.  Takes place between "The Girl Who Waited" and "The God Complex".


**Author's Notes:** I needed Rory to have a conversation with someone between "The Girl Who Waited" and "The God Complex" to help him sort his thoughts, so this is what happened in my head. Many thanks to gidget_zb for the beta and encouragement. First time writing in years, and first venture into Whofic-hope you enjoy it!

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing, so please don't sue.

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><p>He rolls over and blindly gropes the nightstand for the alarm clock to check the time, only to remember a half second later that it won't be there. There is no way to mark a single minute or hour in a place where all of time exists at once. It's one of many habits that linger even though he's been travelling with the Doctor for however long now.<p>

He sighs as he flips on to his back. Jaw clenched, he counts the nights. Eight. Eight nights with little or no sleep. Eight nights since the Doctor forced him to choose which version of Amy would be killed.

Rory turns his head to the left to make sure she is still sleeping soundly, which of course she is. Who wouldn't sleep soundly when they're exactly where they spent their entire childhood dreaming they'd one day be?

He tries to shake the bitterness off of him, but it is growing increasingly difficult. He quietly slips out of bed, throwing on his blue dressing gown, and padding out to the corridor. Without thinking, his feet lead him toward the control room, but before he enters he peeks his head around the corner to see if it's empty, which it is—the Doctor more than likely off reading in the library or attempting to reboot the karaoke bar so they could resume their weekly Tuesday night karaoke parties.

Rory didn't particularly care where the Time Lord was or what he was up to. He stumbles wearily down the steps down to the control console. His gaze falls on the knobs, buttons, cranks, and keys that supposedly navigate the TARDIS. He remembered all the times he's seen the Doctor flitter about the space and wonders if by chance he could remember the steps involved in parking. He gingerly begins to extend his fingers when he hears a rev from the engines below. He quickly draws his hands up in a gesture of surrender, taking a large step away from the console. "Sorry, won't try to fly you. Sorry."

He sighs as he drags his hands over his face, "I feel like I'm in a prison."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he feels a faint shudder underneath his bare feet and hears the exterior doors unlock and creak open on their own. Rory slowly lowers his hands from his face and peers about the room to see if the Doctor is hiding somewhere playing a prank on him. But still he didn't see or hear anyone. "Right. Okay."

Cinching the waist of his dressing gown, he gingerly inches his way toward the door to see when and where the TARDIS has decided to visit. Steps from the threshold, he catches a familiar scent of dankness and knows where he is before he steps out into the dank, dark, cement corridor. Closing the doors behind him, he quickly gets his bearings before heading down a long stretch and reaching a break in the endless walls. He wonders if he should turn around and fetch his slippers to protect his feet from the frigid floor, but the urge to see who lies around the corner keeps him moving forward.

He hears her rise from her pallet and approach the bars enclosing her cell before she speaks, "Oh, are we actually on time with dinner this evening? Well, I guess there's a first for ever—Rory."

He waves a hello as he walks up to her. "Are they not feeding you on time? Do I need to speak with them? I have a sword you know."

She laughs softly and shakes her head. "It's fine. What are you doing here?"

Rory shrugs slightly and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his dressing gown before answering. "I needed someone to talk to, and the TARDIS deposited me here." He pauses and looks her over. Unable to judge time from her appearance and hearing the Doctor's comment in his mind about her ability to age differently he decides it wasn't worth wasting time with guesses. "Where are you in your time stream?"

She answers easily as if there are few other thoughts that occupy her mind, "Last time I saw you was three weeks ago. We'd just finished up at the White House. Where are you?"

"Last run in with you was nearly two months ago." He pauses slightly before continuing in a softer tone, "Berlin." He watches a shadow cross her face ever so briefly after that last word.

She shrugs off any remorse quickly and recomposes herself with a quick shake of her curls, "Oh, well, sorry about that."

He shrugs and eyes his bare feet. "Isn't it every day that someone's childhood best friend magically turns into the person they know to be their daughter, tries to kill their own mother's best friend and jumps three stories out a window to get in a gunfight with a bunch of Nazis? I don't really see a need for an apology."

Maybe it's the tinge of bitterness in his voice or the slump of his shoulders but he can feel her eyes move to inspect him up and down after his response.

"Rory, exactly how many weeks after Berlin is it for you?"

"Seven."

"So it's been a week since Appalappachia?"

His head shoots up at the question. "How do you know about that?"

"The Doctor's future is my past. He told me about it once, long ago."

He debates whether or not to inquire further about such a conversation, but finds himself just a little too curious to see if time tempers the Doctor's opinion on the events. "What did he say?"

She opens her mouth to respond, but then has second thoughts. She turns and moves back toward her pallet where the familiar blue diary resting on her pillow. She flips through the worn pages till she finds the one she's looking for. He watches her eyes move back and forth as she skims her own words and feels his spirits drop again when she shakes her head. "Spoilers," she says regretfully.

Rory shakes his head. "I should ground you for a week every time you say that word. Not that it would do any good. Doubt you would stay in your room since you never stay in your cell. Besides, you're too much like your mother to listen to what I have to say." He runs his hands over his face again. "Oh, Mel—Riv—gah, I don't even know what to call my own daughter. This is what my life has become."

He feels her hand take hold of his right wrist and pull his hand down. "You can call me whatever you like."

Rory nods. "You were Melody when I held you in my arms. You were Mels when you used to leave me in a closet for hours while supposedly playing Hide and Seek. And you're River whenever you want to run around and shoot things. I think I'll stick with Melody."

River smiles, "Melody Williams it is for tonight, then."

Rory laughs softly. "Your mother thought that name made you sound like a geography teacher."

"Close—archaeologist," She responds with a sly grin.

He feels the smile slip from his face and the lines of worry re-etch themselves. "Do we ever find you again? The baby version of you I mean. Will I ever get to hold you in my arms like that again? And don't you dare tell me 'spoilers'."

"I'm sorry, but no," she answers softly. "But you did raise me in a way. You were my parents when I was Mels, you just didn't know it."

"That's not good enough," he retorts, not even bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice. "The Doctor tried to feed us the same story, but it isn't good enough." He begins pacing the width of the corridor in front of her cell as he continues. "I never asked for this, never wanted it. The only thing I've wanted in my entire life is Amy. She's the one who wants to travel with him, put up with his craziness. Don't get me wrong, it does have its good moments, but I can't do this anymore. I just want a normal life where I don't have to worry about my wife getting hurt, or watching the end of a civilization, or wondering where my daughter is and why is she's in prison."

"What did you say to him on Appalappachia?" his daughter asks gingerly, completely avoiding his final comment.

"Didn't he tell you?"

"No. He just said that it was the moment that solidified that fact that he could never fool you like he had the others, and that you saw him exactly as he saw himself. He said he felt terribly sorry about it and tried to make amends."

Rory shakes his head, "He hasn't tried to do anything but put us in constant danger and try to cover it up as fun and discovery."

"But what did you say?" she pleaded.

He stops pacing and turns toward her. "I said that he was turning me into him; that I didn't want to travel with him anymore. Probably the first time he'd heard that one before."

"No, actually. There was a woman named Martha, but her reasons were different."

"Did he let her go easily?" he asks, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

"Of course, as soon as she said the words."

"Well, she obviously didn't have a Scottish wife to contend with."

She smiles slightly, "Have you talked to her about it?"

"I tried once a few days ago. She threw a shoe at me." He grabs hold of two bars, leans his forehead to rest on the one in between and closes his eyes, "This is the only thing she's ever dreamed about—traveling the stars with her raggedy doctor. I can't be the one to take that away from her."

He pauses and raises his head before asking a question that's been floating around his mind for months but was too terrifying to bring up. "Do Amy and I have any other kids?" He watches her face fall for a second before her usual, impenetrable mask fell back into place. Instantly he feels guilt and pain for causing that expression to appear. Worried she may be interpreting his question incorrectly, he assumes his best attempt at a fatherly tone of voice, "Melody Williams, you look at me right now."

Her eyes meet his with a look of surprise and curiosity mixed in with the faint mark of hurt.

"I'm not asking because you're not good enough or that I want to have a normal life and forget about all of this. You are my daughter. I love you and I always will. I can never regret any of this happening because it gave me you. But, and I'm sorry if you hate me for saying this, but Amy got her dream of traveling with the Doctor, and I just wonder sometimes if I'll get mine—a normal, semi-quiet life where we can grow old together and raise a family without the fear of Weeping Angels or fishy vampires or beams of light that completely erase your existence. I want to see my child's first steps, hear their first word, not lay awake in bed at night wondering what monsters are brain-washing them into an assassin. Again," he sighs, "sorry. Probably not what you want to hear from your father."

"It's understandable for you to feel that way." She answers with a shrug.

"Am I missing something?" he asks, once again resuming his pacing. "You obviously adore him, so does Amy. Don't get me wrong—he can be a good friend. And I know he would never intentionally put us into harm's way, but it's getting harder and harder for me to trust him. I don't know, I just feel so tired."

She bites her lip for a second as if debating her next words. "It will be over soon."

He feels his stomach drop and rushes back to stand as close to her as possible. "Does something happen? Does it happen to Amy? Please say it will happen to me. I can die again, it's okay, I'm pretty used to it by now. Tell me Amy will be fine."

"She'll be fine," she says with a reassuring smile. "And so will you. The Doctor told me that he couldn't take the way you looked at him anymore after Appalappachia, so he decided to save you both."

"Save us? How?"

She tilts her head to the side and gives him a knowing look.

"Fine. Spoilers. So just a little while longer? I suppose I can live with that. I know I can't talk to Amy about this anymore, that she has to make her own decision. Or he's going to have to make it for her. And I can't see him doing that anytime soon. He needs to have someone to find him impressive. Of course, I guess he could always find someone new. But that might be even worse. As things are now I can step in and at least try and reason with him when he loses control."

"Oh, I think the next person who travels with him will be able to tame him just fine."

Rory's stomach threatens to sour once more. "Oh, god, it's you, isn't it? Amy's right—you are his wife. Bloody hell, that makes me his father-in-law. Is there a wedding? Do I give you away? Well you sound like you're about to live with him, so there had better be a wedding, do you hear me?" He grimaces at the fact that she has the nerve to laugh in response. "Right. Fine. But if he ever hurts you, just remember: I have a sword."

She reaches through the bars to rest her hand on his cheek. He grabs hold of her wrist, turns his head, and kisses her palm before holding her hand firmly in his. "I love you, Melody. Never doubt that for a second. Ever."

She runs her thumb over his fingers before squeezing his hand in return. "I never have. Never doubt that I love you, too, Dad."

His heart flutters at the sound of her words. "Since that's the first time you've called me that, well you weren't regenerating and trying to kill people and all, can you and I pretend those were your first words?"

She grins at the idea. "Deal."

"Right. Good. Well, thank you for the talk. I guess the TARDIS knew that was just what I needed."

"She has a habit of doing that."

"Yeah, I guess." His gaze falls back to his bare feet as he tries to find a reason to prolong his visit. "Oh, should I go get your mum? She's sleeping, but I could wake her. Well, I could try to wake her. That woman is the soundest sleeper in the history of the universe, but I'm sure I'd just have to say your name and she'd dash out here in a second."

She smiles, but shakes her head. "No, let her rest."

"Okay. And I wasn't kidding about before. If you're hungry, I can go make you something in the kitchen or harass a guard into bringing your food."

"No," she laughs, "I'll be fine."

"Okay then, I guess I'm off. See you around, right?"

"You'll be seeing me soon," she answers with a sly grin.

"Alright, good." He gives a small wave and turns to walk back to the TARDIS when a thought crosses his mind. "Wait a minute, if we don't travel with the Doctor any more, how are we going to see you?"

"Oh, I'll be sure to pop in from time to time."

He feels both relief and terror at her answer. "When you do, can you just lie and say you've been released from here? I don't want to worry about you dragging some band of clerics along with you in a fugitive hunt."

"Will do," she laughs.

"And that, by the way, is the only instance ever where you're allowed to lie to me. Just so we're clear. Understood?"

"Understood," she replies with a jaunty salute.

"Right, well, I'm off then." He turns once more toward the long corridor before spinning and grabbing her in a tight embrace through the bars. "I meant what I said, Melody. I love you, and I would never ever change anything about you. I never dreamed that this would all be my life, but I always hoped that my children would be so much greater that I could ever imagine, and you are exactly that."

"Thank you," she whispers into his shoulder.

He nods and they both take a step back. "Soon then, right?"

"Soon."

He shakes his head once more and waves goodbye.

Just a little longer.


End file.
